


Perfectly Normal Books

by Sherbertdab



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (I may come back and edit later on but this is the first time I’ve written in years bc depression, Fix It Fic, bc Gerry deserves nice things, featuring a lesbian granny oc, fuck gertrude, let Gerry be happy you monster, the muse just hit me @ 3am)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherbertdab/pseuds/Sherbertdab
Summary: Valerie had been pretty sure she knew every book shop in London until wandering down a side street and finding 'Perfectly Normal Books'. Staffed by a strange goth man and his little black cat.Inspired by a post from envy-distortion on tumblr
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	Perfectly Normal Books

When Valerie first spotted the little bookshop tucked away on a side street of this bustling Southern town she had been pleasantly surprised. A book shop she didn’t know?! Unheard of! The large painted wooden sign identified it as ‘Perfectly Normal Books’. Valerie entered, interested as to exactly what that could possibly mean. 

Her enthusiasm waned slightly as she entered the shop and discovered a long thin room, entirely, floor to ceiling, door to back room - full of glossy covered paperbacks. From the YA section, young dainty white girls averted their gaze and the crime section was full of darkened city skylines or dank looking ruins. Not a single classic in sight. Well, some classics. But purely Shakespeare, Dickens and Orwell. Nothing particularly out there. This must be a chain store, cleverly disguised as an independent shop, purely to lure in those who try to cling to the small local businesses.

Valerie was moments from tiptoeing back out before the presumably shiny uni students could find their way to her, called by the bell above the door. Before she could, however, an entirely black cat jumped up onto a cat tree next to the door. She glared at it accusingly for a moment before sighing. 

“Alright, puss, but just a quick pet. I wouldn’t want to drag your poor owner away from their tea just to say tarar.”

Movement from behind the shelves told her they were already up. Out from behind the horror stepped a man. A goth, Valerie posited. She’d heard of them, seen them sometimes. Kids normally, wearing all black, with patchily dyed hair. This one had long black hair, with an undercut on one side, barely hiding surgery scars. She reached up to touch her own, long healed now but still there. The young man noticed and his eyes shot to the floor.

“Sorry pet…” The silence hung between them for a moment before she added, “is it gone? Do you know?”

He seemed to mull this over, his hands dancing over the nearest book to him. Drawing Valerie’s eyes to a strange scar over each knuckle. Though now that she had noticed, his whole hand had a strange look to it. The knuckles, whatever happened there, seemed like a fresher wound.

“I don’t know yet. No. I feel confident though. Good about it.” He finally spoke after an awful pause and Valerie smiled. 

“That’s the biggest part of it really. It doesn’t seal the deal of course but… after my surgery, I felt it… something… you know. I knew. Doctors said I was nuts, so did my Cheryl but I insisted on having a test. Wouldn’t leave the poor man alone till he sent me.” Valerie’s heart warmed at the mention of Cheryl and she decided to get her coffee later. “I was right though. About the tumor. It’s gone now but… sometimes you do just know.”

“Yes.” He says abruptly, “well. Is there-”

“Sorry for overstepping. Sometimes, in your old age, you get this need to pass on your wisdom. Me and my Cheryl never had any children so-” I guess I’ll ramble on to the first young man who stays quiet for two seconds. She trailed off suddenly nervous, the unshakeable feeling of being watched setting her on edge.

“It’s alright. I’ve not really had anyone to speak to - about it.”

Valerie’s new grandson loomed awkwardly in his own bookshop.

“No family? Friends? Partner?”

He shook his head, a sudden sadness in his eyes. 

Valerie was about to say something when he spoke again.

“My family- my mum wasn’t much good. My dad’s dead. Mum’s dead too but I don’t really…”

Valerie’s known enough young ones with bad parents to know exactly what he meant.

“I had a friend for a while… she was… she- I think she knew. About me.” He reached a hand to his scar and Valerie’s heart broke for this young man and was still breaking, many hours later.

“I figured it out… the internet’s full of knowledge these days and I’d been having these headaches for months. My friend, she knew a lot. I always thought she’d say if it was anything and then one day, one day we were out talking to people and she made a promise to someone, an old friend, that I knew she’d already broken and it hit me that… she doesn’t care. She has a purpose and it’s not keeping me healthy. I left, in the middle of the night. Just hopped on a bus and fucked off. I got myself to a doctor and they told me… No.” He let out a sudden sharp breath and looked at Valerie like he’d seen a ghost. His hand shot up to his mouth.

“Are you alright dear?” 

The cat Valerie had been stroking started hissing at her and the young man, somehow glided across the room and scooped it up. It almost immediately started purring but it’s green eyes never left hers.

“It’s alright,” he cooed. “She didn’t mean to.”

Valerie found herself backing up to the door slightly. Not from fear, just lack of understanding. Who was this strange man? Why was he so upset by her grandmotherly ability to get young folks talking about their traumas?

“Sorry, for laying that on you.” He said, though that answered no questions and was clearly a terrible lie but he seemed distinctly calmer now so Valerie let it drop. 

“Did you come here for something?”

Startled by the sudden 180 the conversation had taken, Valerie managed to say, “well, I actually came in to see what second hand stuff you-”

“We don’t.” He gestured to a sign Valerie had failed to notice on her first scan of the shop. It was a very basic standard looking sign juxtaposed against the antique vibe the shop itself had which made the sign stand out all the more. It was blocky black text on a white background and it read, ‘No first editions. No second hand. No misprints. Absolutely no Leitners.’

“What’s a Leitner?” She said, “I’ve been a book collector for years now and I’ve never heard of a Leitner before.” Excitement stirred within her, it was rare she found something new to entice her in her old age.

“Be glad.” He paused before adding, “that curiosity? That longing telling you that you simply ‘must know’? Ignore it. It’s not worth it. Anything else I can get you? A nice John Grisham? Lee Child?”

Something in his voice immediately quieted any questions she had. He wouldn’t share and his insistence told her that he wasn’t kidding. Whoever Leitner was, it wasn’t worth it. 

Probably some weird antique volumes from Russia with hidden compartments, maybe some strange old map tucked away inside that would see her whisked away on a fantastical adventure to- Calm down Valerie. You’re 80 now, one missed step and your hip would shatter.  
“I- I do like a good horror. What can you recommend? It’s been a while since I’ve bought a new book, I’ve no clue who’s out there.”  
He smirked slightly and moved back towards the horror shelves, running his fingers over several glossy covered, brightly coloured novels.  
“Here.” He handed her a thick book. A close up on a young woman’s face filled the cover, but the eyes have been scraped off. 

“It’s short stories. There’s a few in there I like but I recommend you give them all a shot. Most of the authors have other works and you can go from there.”

“Perfect. Thank you… uh, I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Gera- Gerry. Gerry.” 

“Well, I’m Valerie.” She beamed and held out a hand, he took it and smiled nervously. She’d make a grandson out of him yet.

Once she was all paid up, she slid a scrap of paper across the counter towards him. 

“If you ever need to talk… or you just want a coffee with a friend.”

Before he could object, Valerie scooped up her book and left. Giving the cat a wink as she went.

Inside the shop, Gerard Delano flopped down onto one of the dusty arm chairs and fought back tears in vain. He sat there, clutching the number of the first friend he’s had in a decade.  
:)


End file.
